What You Make It
by superfan24
Summary: After taking her parents memories to prepare for the war, Hermione feels alone. But she comes to learn family is what you make it. Oneshot


When Hermione was a small girl, no more than six years old, she'd watched a muggle boy on her block stealing a bike from the house across the street. She knew she should tell, but was terrified of the boy finding out she'd been the tattle tale, and had remained quiet all through dinner as her mother prodded to tell her what was wrong.

"You know you can tell me anything, Hermione," she'd said with a face full of sincerity.

"I'm scared to," Hermione replied, gazing at her potatoes sadly.

"Hermione, I'll always keep you safe, dear."

And she believed that was true until she was eleven years old. When she'd gotten the letter. Hermione was a witch and her entire world had changed.

She went away to school. She made new friends. She slowly lost the safety net she'd relied so heavily on her entire life.

Because how does an eleven year old girl tell her mother she'd broken almost every school rule to help protect an ancient stone from the most dangerous evil the world had ever known?

How does a twelve year old girl explain to her mother she'd missed a quarter of the school year because she'd been petrified by a snake?

How does a thirteen year old girl explain she'd gone back in time to save a man from a fate worse than death, almost being mauled by her werewolf professor in the process?

How does a fourteen year old girl tell her mother that no one was safe anymore because the dangerous evil from her first year had been brought back to life, given a new body, and was hell bent on killing one of her very dearest friends?

How does a fifteen year old girl explain to her mother she'd almost died helping her friends at her world's Ministry when she should have been safe and sound at school?

How did a sixteen year old girl explain to her mother that nowhere was safe, not even Hogwarts? How do you tell your mother you have to quit school, and go on the run, because it is the only chance the world stands at ever knowing a moment of peace ever again?

There may have been a time when Hermione could rely on her mother to defeat her demons for her. And then the letter came. She was a witch.

And there Hermione sat, in her room, clutching a small beaded bag in her hands as if it were a lifeline. Everything she needed resided inside the small bag, due to her brilliant handiwork and amazing magical prowess.

She couldn't explain to her mother that no one was safe. That she needed to leave. That it was the only way.

So down the stairs she walked, beaded bag in her left hand, her wand grasped firmly in the right. About to rip away the illusion of a safety net for good. They sat on the couch, her mother and father, discussing the unusual weather they'd been experiencing, sipping their tea without a care in the world. Her cup sat waiting for her on the coffee table.

She inhaled.

She remembered being five, and feeding the ducks with her father at the park.

She remembered riding her bike for her mother for the first time.

She remembered their camping trip her first summer after her letter arrived.

She remembered beach trips and vacations and insignificant moments in her life shared with her parents, who loved her in a way no other person on the planet ever could.

"Obliviate."

With a slight turn of the wrist it was done. She turned her head to the right in time to watch herself disappear out of various pictures on the wall. When she glanced back at her parents, her tea had disappeared. And slowly, she backed out of the room, into the kitchen, and crept silently out the door.

With a lone tear falling down her cheek, she turned away from the house. She put her hand up to her mouth and inhaled quickly. She didn't have time to debate what she'd done. She'd erased her life, and as she turned on the spot with her eyes closed, she left behind not a memory of the life she'd been leading. That was all in her small beaded bag.

Within the beat of a heart, she appeared in front of a crooked looking house in the middle of a great field. A hand grasped her shoulder and turned her around. Immediately, Hermione collapsed into the figure, and let it all go. She didn't need to be strong anymore.

"It worked then?" the figure whispered, one hand falling to the small of her back, the other resting in her hair. Hermione could only nod, her response mumbled in the boy's chest. "Hermione, they're safe now."

"I watched myself disappear, Ron," she whispered, forcing her eyes to meet his, the blue shocking her, as always. "My baby pictures…. Pictures of my recital when I was five… I was just… gone. Even the tea my mother had waiting for me on the table vanished…," she broke off into a single, pained sob, and Ron held her tighter.

"Let's go inside," he whispered, wiping a single tear with his thumb. Without another word, he scooped her up and carried her inside the house, where he sat them down together on the couch. Hermione curled herself up in his lap as the last of her tears fell.

"I have no family," Hermione said when she'd finally caught her breath.

"Hermione, you're always going to have a family, whether they remember you or not. They're still your parents."

"But they don't….," she broke off on a sigh. "I just feel… so alone."

"You're not alone, Hermione. You never will be." He blushed slightly as he met her eyes and smiled. "I mean… I'm here. I promise you I'll never leave you. I know it's not the same. A mum and a dad… it's something you only get one of. But… family is what you make of it. Family… that's just a load of people who love you. You still have that, Hermione. You've got Harry and Ginny, Fred and George, Lupin, Tonks, my mum and dad…," he trailed off, twirling a piece of her thick brown hair around his finger. She halted his actions with a simple hand on his cheek, her wet eyes imploring.

"And you?" she asked hesitantly. "What about you Ron?"

"What about me?" he whispered, dropping her hair.

"You just listed off a handful of people who supposedly love me," she answered quietly. "What about you, Ron Weasley?"

"Hermione…," he whispered, glancing away. "Mum and dad will be home with Ginny soon."

"You just promised me I'd never be alone, Ron, that you'd never leave me! Tell me what it means," her voice broke at the end as new tears filled her eyes. "Please."

"It means… that I love you, too. That I've loved you forever. Seeing you like this… seeing you cry like this, it tears me up. It makes me want to be the one who makes you smile again."

She didn't say anything, just gave him a smile before laying her head back on his chest. He resumed playing with her hair. Neither spoke for a few minutes. Hermione welcomed this silence. It was the silence of beginnings, not the end, and she let it wash over her.

"I want you to be the one who makes me smile, Ron," Hermione whispered. The hand stroking her hair gently fell to her face, running lightly over her cheek, before dipping down to her chin. Ron tilted her face up towards his. "I love you, too."

They shared a brief smile before Ron dipped his head and met her lips in a sweet, tender kiss. He was hesitant at first; afraid she would later think he'd taken advantage of her. She had only been sobbing about her parents twenty minutes ago, if that. Hermione brought her hand to his neck, playing with the short hairs she found in the back. Upon her small sigh, Ron deepened the kiss, his tongue begging access only for a second before she complied.

Hermione was only brought back to her surroundings by a bang in the fireplace before them. Green flames emerged, and a tall red haired girl stepped out, a small smirk playing on her lips at their position together on the couch.

"Mum and dad are on their way," she said, stepping out of the fireplace as Ron lifted Hermione off his lap and deposited her next to him on the couch. A second later, green flames announced the arrival of his mother, followed shortly by his dad.

"Hermione, dear, so good to see you," Molly Weasley said, stepping forward and scooping the girl into a hug. She relinquished the girl to her husband, who gave her a quick hug as well.

"I trust things went all right today, then?" he asked. Ron watched as her eyes hardened, her sadness at the loss of her parents, even if it was only temporary, abandoning her, leaving behind the tough girl he'd come to love after all these years.

"Everything went exactly as planned," she replied, offering a brief smile.

"No trouble with the spell at all?"

"None. It worked like a charm." Arthur laughed at her small pun. She could only offer a brief chuckle as she met Ron's eyes.

"Ginny dear, come help me with dinner," Molly said, walking into the kitchen with her only daughter trailing closely behind. Arthur took Hermione's hand and squeezed it gently before turning and heading up the stairs.

"Ron, Hermione, come in here and help! We'll have dinner out much faster that way!" Molly called from the kitchen.

Ron walked the short distance to Hermione before wrapping his arms gently around her. She stood on tiptoes to meet his lips briefly, pulling away too quickly for either's liking. He ran a thumb gently over her bottom lip.

"You'll never be alone, Hermione. There will always be a place for you here."

"Thank you," she replied as he grabbed her hand and led her into the kitchen to help prepare the family meal.

When Hermione was fifteen, her mother walked into her room during summer break to find her face down on her bed crying.

"Hermione dear, what's the matter?" she'd asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and rubbing her back lightly.

She turned onto her side, wiping her eyes quickly. Hermione looked at her mother, so aged and wise, and yet so innocent. That was the moment she truly decided. Decided her mother couldn't know. Couldn't know anything. Not about any of it. Not about the werewolves or the evil or that Cedric Diggory was dead. It was the moment she knew her mother could never be all she'd need her to be. She loved her, but it was time to acknowledge that her childhood was over, and it had been for a long, long time.

So as Hermione stood in the Weasley's kitchen, stirring Molly's iced tea, she felt for the first time in a long time, just for this moment, she could be a kid.

If only for a moment.

There was a war to fight.

And people might die.

And her parents had no idea who she was.

But no matter where she went, she knew that with people who loved her, she'd never be alone. She met Ron's eyes over the kitchen table as he laid glasses down by hand, without magic, and she sighed to herself. One day she would get her parents back.

But right now, family was what she made it.


End file.
